Little Lion Man (Or the Untold Story of Akashi Seijuro's Father)
by StJoanofArc
Summary: <html><head></head>[oneshot] And as Akashi Seijuro grows older he finds himself to be a reflection of every single male Akashi in the family before him. Why must he suffer the fate that every single person before him has? It all starts with his father, of course - who is also a reflection of a family who couldn't love.</html>


He remembers that he was five when his older brother kills himself at the age of sixteen.

There were swirling colors and men in blue uniforms rushing into the house Jiro has grown up in, innocent and unaware of what went on his brother's room. His parents were rarely home; when his parents were home, Jiro always felt safe and loved. They were busy people, he was told by the staff that raises him, and so is your brother.

This situation must've been very important from his parents to come rushing home. His five-year old mind couldn't comprehend why his mother was sobbing and clinging to his shirt. He doesn't understand his father's face, usually lined with crinkles, becomes expressionless. It was like his parents were finally seeing the monsters that Jiro was sure were under his bed deep into the night, right in front of them.

He can recall his brother's smile hours before his parents came home. It was different, he noted from where he was playing with his toy cars and trucks. His grubby hands fist his mother's shirt, and he finally sobs out, "Mommy, what's wrong with Chuu? Where is he?"

His mother never replies. When he looks up, he catches her glazed-over eyes. Something snaps within the young Jiro and before he knows what was going on, he was being pulled away from his mother. He lets out screams of, "Let me go!" and "Chuu!"

He doesn't know what was going on, but he knew it would be a while before he saw Chuu again.

And a year later, everything is so different as he finds himself dressed in black and looking down at his brother's grave. It was the first loss and it was like the year flew by. His parents had changed completely, but his six-year-old mind whispers to him that he needs to be strong like Chuu was, stay cold and not ask anything to his parents.

His mother wasn't happy anymore. His father wasn't laughing anymore. They don't smile at Jiro's accomplishments or giggle at him like they did a year ago. There was nothing left in the Akashi house. It was so cold.

Sometimes, late at night - because he can never sleep anymore - Jiro finds himself blaming the cold air that presses on his skin is emitting from Chuu's room. He swears it emits some form of winter.

And the years pass like this, his father shoving work on him every day. Every day blurs with more things to learn. By the time he reaches nine years old, his parents hadn't been home for his birthday or holidays for the past two years. All he gets is more work and more tutors and more books and less innocence.

Every year, however, his father and mother never fail to come back and grab Jiro. They take him to Chuu's grave and they all stand there silent for hours on end before they drop him back off at the mansion with empty kisses on the cheeks before leaving yet again.

Without realizing it, hatred blooms in Jiro's heart. Why was he being punished? Why didn't his parents love him anymore? He asks himself, "What did I do wrong?" as he sits on his bed in an adult-like manner, leaning over the side.

His feet don't reach the ground from this height and yet he can tell by the pitiful looks of the Akashi staff that his sorrow is worse than an adult's. He's so sorry for himself. He's so, so sorry for Chuu. But worst of all, he's so so so sorry for his parents. The world spins so fast and seasons change and Akashi Jiro is alone and vows that one day, when he is his father's age, he will be nothing like his father as a parent.

His lessons pile up and he doesn't understand why any of this matters. He's only nine now; why should a nine year old be taking etiquette classes, and learning how to speak in French? And whenever the child in his heart points these questions out to his tutor, they would spare him odd looks.

Finally, his French teacher sighs one day. "Why do you ask so many questions?" she snaps. "Don't you know that you're the heir to the Akashi family business that your parents are so busy with? One day, you too, will have a son that will inherit the business and be in your same position."

"I hope I'm nothing like my father," the boy replies. He hears the intake of breath and stares up at the woman with wide eyes.

"Now, Akashi-kun don't say such things," she forces out. "Your father is a powerful man, and surely you'd like to be too -"

"My father used to be a powerful man." The words are cutting - too cutting for a nine-year-old, anyways. His tutor regards him, watching the young man peer down at his French book with a bored expression. She notes Jiro's exhausted, dark-lidded eyes. She thinks to herself that he almost looks like a zombie, with his pale skin and shadowed eyes. His fingers, slender and calloused, were brushing against the expensive marble table the two sit at. "Jane-sama, why do you think my father is no longer proud of me, and my mother no longer loves me?"

The lady can't help but feel pity for the child. He was nine and no longer had any emotional support. He was nine, and no longer smiled or laughed. He was nine, and convinced that his family members hate him. How can he deal with this? She actually finds herself worried.

"I'm sure your father is very proud of you, oui," she reassures, "and your mother loves you, oui."

That's the only time anyone has ever told him that yes, his parents still cared.

The years pass on and on, from a sad preadolescent and finally it is his first day of high school.

His brother had left them his first year of high school. It was unnerving and he can almost hear his parents voices wishing Chuu a good first day. Jiro gets no message, no letter, no phone call. Hell, he thinks bitterly, his parents had come home for Chuu.

He eats the same tasteless breakfast that he does every day, and a maid straightens out his collar while he does his tie. He shoulders his backpack and walks towards the Rakuzan.

It was a nice day outside. The same kind of day he recalls Chuu dropping him off at his elementary school on, before walking towards Rakuzan. There are cherry blossoms and professors down the crowded streets. Businessmen in light suits on the streets near the school. It towers above all of them, menacing and gentle at the same time.

He hears a giggle and his eyes immediately slide over to the source. It was a girl, his age or maybe a bit younger, walking alongside other girls. Akashi Jiro's eyes lock on her hair. It was red. His own hair was red, but he never witnessed someone in his years of social solitude with the same shade of hair.

It was crimson, and his eyes scan her figure. She has pale skin, he can tell that from a distance. She wore her skirt longer than other girls, appearing conservative. Her head turns so she can talk to her friend to her right, and Akashi Jiro finds himself struck with the beauty of this girl.

He's sure she could never love him. Positive that he doesn't stand a chance.

Walls that had built up since his brother's death go unaware by Akashi Jiro. He knows that something about him changed, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was that had. He finds out that he has invisible walls built up, discovered on his first date with the lovely girl with the crimson hair. Her name was Makoto Asami, and she was as kind as she was pretty.

Their relationship spreads throughout their adolescence. It was a delicate balance of kindness and formality. It was perfect in Jiro's mind. their relationship was full of love. Well, love on her part. He tries to convey he cares through his shadowing presence, which just makes everyone at Rakuzan fear the royal couple. The coldhearted, hardening etiquette classes from years ago had formed the implication that the Akashi family was more important than ever, through the lessons ingrained in Jiro.

And yet it doesn't seem so important to Jiro as he clings to Makoto Asami at three o'clock in the morning; it just seems stifling. And he sobs and sobs and keeps crying out, "Why did it happen to me?" which turns to "Why am I alive? Why aren't I the one that's dead?" Makoto Asami shushes him and a part of her finally, finally believes that this is the turning point for Akashi Jiro and that his walls will once and for all break down.

The walls do break and do not - after that night, everything seems lighter on Jiro's chest after finally, finally trusting and loving someone enough to admit it. The lovers advance forth, with tender protection of each other. Mr. Akashi and Mrs. Akashi soon come back for a break from work. The date was getting closer to his brother's death.

"Heard from one of the maid's you've got yourself a girl now, son," his father's deep voice interrupts the silence at the dinner table. Jiro had yet to personally tell his parents of Makoto Asami -in fact, he hadn't planned to tell them at all. It didn't matter.

"Yes, I do, father," Jiro replies in monotone, his chopsticks hovering over the sushi. His parents had aged terribly since it happened. His brother's death.

"We'd both like to meet her." His mother's voice is raspy, showing how old she was. They were both in their fifties by now, though Jiro had long since forgotten about their birth dates. His lips draw into a thin line at the announcements.

"Of course," he agrees. "When?"

"Tomorrow." His father's voice is final, commanding him. Jiro drops the chopsticks and looks up with wide eyes. The next day was Chuu's death anniversary; was his father trying to possibly scare Asami away? He narrows his eyes and immediately maintains a cool aura.

"I shall see what I can work out."

It ends up working out. Asami is escorted into the Akashi family's mansion at precisely 11:33 a..m. the next day, into the tea room. He sits across from his parents, an empty pillow next to him for her. She is wearing a smile when she walks in, which Jiro can't help but love and be thankful for. It lightens the atmosphere of the day. She bows to his parents, greeting them respectfully.

She sits down, well aware of the heavy scrutiny over her. Jiro loves her even more for her happy, peaceful appearance despite it. In the end, it will only help her - if his parents had any source of a mind or opinion.

She makes the day bearable, in most ways. The time comes around for the family to visit the grave site. He purses his lips when his mother invites Asami along with a look in Jiro's direction. She agrees steadily, with a look in Jiro's direction as if to affirm her presence was okay.

Never before was he this vulnerable to anyone. He decides then and there, standing a little ways behind his feet, one hand clasped in the precious girl's and the other formed in a fist that he can't live properly without her. They had been going out for six months, nothing special to most couples - but he could feel that this was special. To both of them.

And it is. Their relationship outlasts all of their peers, whom are not surprised to find they are still together even when it is their final year. Asami takes to going to university in Tokyo, along with Jiro. They go to the same school and it isn't long before Jiro takes over his father's business.

His parents retire and with school long since finished, Jiro finds the courage. Even without his parents affection, even with his dead brother, even with memories that he's living with, he can get through all of it because of Makoto Asami. His heart thump thump thumps around her and he's actually fucking alive for once in his life. The Akashi mansion is all his own, and Asami moves in at his demand.

He finally asks her the most life-changing question of all. He does it on a clear day - a day like when he first set eyes on her, a day when his brother once dropped him off at school with secret melancholy in his unbeating heart. There is no melancholy in this, however. If anything, it was nostalgia. Everything was pure and simple, it was just the past that was there.

The cherry blossoms, pale pink and soft, shine in the sunshine. He takes her to a quiet park, but one in the public nonetheless. He knows she loves going out to social spots, likes the freedom of the outside world. Another reason he loves her; because she deals with the years of being stuck indoors with a little lion man.

When he asks her, down on one knee, he feels real. He feels like one of those everyday, cliched couples that are giddy with over sensitive grasps on each other. And she smiles in the exact way he thought she would, and nods and chants, "Yes," until tears run down her face. He gently embraces her. It was real. She was real, and he was real. The wedding that happened seven months later was real, as was her white dress.

After getting familiar with the business, and settling down as a married couple in the same household, they finally decide to have a child. It was a beautiful process, and nothing like Jiro imagined. It was soft and sweet and her expressions were still cherishable to this day he looks back on everything. She felt like sand underneath of his waves. She was the sun and the moon and the stars and he whispers that I love love love you, as they become one.

Nine months later comes the baby boy. He had waited anxiously for these past months, and as he bursts through the hospital doors -he had been ordered to stand outside by the doctor because you might be stressing out your wife subconsciously, sir, and she needs to concentrate - and sees the sight that ripples his thoughts.

A baby boy with the same shared red hair. He had his mother's red eyes, and Jiro's own complexion and face shape. His heart swells with pride and yet fear makes his hands clammy as he runs to them, really, but it felt like everything was in slow motion. It's their baby, but what if he is not a good father? Jiro had never really forgotten the conversation with Jane-sama all those years ago.

His lips curve into a genuine smile and he peers at his wife from hooded lashes. "May I hold our son, Akashi Asami?" He never grows tired of her being an Akashi, or stressing the fact that she was his wife.

"Of course, Akashi Jiro," she replies in a sleepy tone, but with excitement in her red orbs. Jiro kisses her forehead and holds the bundle in his arms.

He is in awe of how tiny his son is. He feels very old, very mature with the child in his arms. His heart is full of unconditional love, swelling with the passion. "It is nice to meet you, Seijuro-kun," he whispers. The baby lets out a noise and actually smiles up at his father like he had a fucking clue of what was going to happen and all Jiro can do is kiss the baby's palm.

And after his wife and son get home from the hospital two days later, with Jiro constantly hovering around the both of them (only to be scolded by Asami affectionately, of course), everything flips. He receives a call from the hospital only to be told his parents were in the same hospital he had just gotten home from. It was because, "Sir, your parents have been involved in a severe car accident, can you please come d-" and Akashi Jiro hangs up the phone and lets it slip out of his hands. He swallows and is out the door faster than he thought was possible, his wife calling after him.

He drives and drives only to burst through the doors and directed to the area to find out that it was too late. His parents were gone, right in front of him. He walks over anyways, and is there but isn't really there at the same time as he loses his shit.

He's screaming, because "God damn the two of you! Why did you have to go? You both fucking wanted to go, didn't you? You both wanted to leave me!" And he's dragged out of the room by hospital security, and placed in a spare room to calm down.

The funeral takes place and all of his father's old business partners and hell, anyone who is anyone, are at the funeral. And they all wear black and file into the pews of the church and Jiro has to witness his son be hushed for the respect of his dead parents for the first time since he was conceived. It was as if, on that day, someone was twisting Akashi Seijuro's fate into what he was destined to be.

Five years later, the people in his family's graves are untouched, unvisited. Jiro tells himself it's because he doesn't have enough time for much of anything - which he wishes wasn't the case - only to find out he needs to make time as he witnesses his wife coughing up blood at two thirty-two in the morning when Seijuro was five.

And Asami's condition only gets worse and worse and Jiro fucking hates himself because he's too selfish to take her to the doctors. Along with the fact that he was wrapped around her fingers, making him cave in when he comes into their shared room with constant threats to take her to the doctors. She pleads no, and his heart breaks at the look on her face.

He follows her orders, which lead him right back to the place they were last at.

At a funeral.

It's the first time he cries in front of his five-year-old son, but he didn't care at the time. His heart was turning to ice as the casket lowered into the ground and he holds back from screaming and forcing them to bring her back. He wants to make everyone leave, because they didn't deserve to look at her. He wants her all for himself, he wants for her to be shaking him awake with a, Jiro Jiro you're just having a nightmare.

It wasn't the case. The past was the present. It was real. She was real, and he was real. But this time, she was dead and he was breathing and had a beating heart that was cracking in half. He steels himself over when his eyes settle on his son. His trembling fingers reach out and tug on the sleeve of the boy's suit, drawing him closer for the last time.

Asami would hate him for what he was going to become, he knew that just watching her be buried. He knows that this is the final time his son will ever see him again - the real him. The father Jiro wanted to be.

Because later on that day, when he drops his son off and visits his parents about Asami's death, he comes to a realization. He comes to the realization as he stands in their own mansion, across from his weathering father, that Akashi Jiro was becoming his reflection.

And one day, Akashi Seijuro would become the reflection of the father who couldn't love, either.

* * *

><p>I apologize for the last one; this is the final version. Something on my laptop messed up and it came out the way it did, so I took it down and am now republishing it. Thank you, and I hope you enjoy.<p>

I do not own Kuroko No Basuke in any way, shape, or form. All rights to the creators. This is my own personal take on the Akashi family, but Jiro Akashi is not the official name and this is not an official story in any way.


End file.
